


Sulfur and Blood

by amaresu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Ficlet, Gen, Self-Harm, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-10
Updated: 2009-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaresu/pseuds/amaresu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean tries to remember how it felt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sulfur and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning this is a bit bizarre.

Dean waits until he can hear the Impala drive off before moving to his bag. In a matter of seconds he's grabbed the tin hidden at the bottom; under some porn mags so Sam won't look. Next he makes sure to grab one of the hex bags Ruby's left them, it would be bad to have any angelic interruption during what he has planned. From there it's a few short steps to the bathroom where he's left the crappy heat lamp going all morning.

The bathroom is small, barely enough room to kneel down between the bathtub and the wall. The heat lamp gives everything a red tint, more so once he turns off the other light. Dean opens the tin carefully, making sure nothing spills out. The smell of sulfur is strong, but he lifts the tin up to his nose anyway. He inhales deeply, almost breathing it in, so the sent will linger once he puts the tin down.

The next step is the reason he hasn't done this before, Sam would ask too many questions, but the hunt the previous day ended with the both of them battered and bruised. More importantly, Dean had received a long gash along his forearm. It was shallow enough to not need stitches, but deep enough that if it takes a bit to heal Sam won't question it.

After taking off the bandages it's easy enough to re-open the wound. The smell of blood fills the air, mixing with the sulfur. It's not quite right. The heat lamp isn't hot enough and the sulfur and blood don't permeate the air around him, but it's close. It's so close.

Especially once he closes his eyes. If he tries hard enough Dean can almost imagine that he's in one of the far off corners, a cave maybe, where the screams and cries are distant. If he tries hard enough he can almost feel Alistair standing next to him. Breathing in the air, the blood and sulfur mixing together, he can almost believe he's back there.

His phone breaks the illusion. Shatters it into a million pieces as AC/DC blares in the confines of the bathroom. Dean swears as he digs it out of his pocket, for his own stupidity for not thinking of turning it to silent and for whoever is calling. The number isn't one he recognizes, but he answers regardless, "What?"

"It tingles when you think about me." The voice is unknown, but the speaker is not.

The name catches in Dean's throat before he manages to say it. It's whispered almost reverently, a prayer to his former god, "Alistair."


End file.
